


Overheard

by Janet_Coleman_Sides



Category: Kagaku Ninja Tai Gatchaman | Science Ninja Team Gatchaman
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Homophobic Language, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-10
Updated: 2013-01-10
Packaged: 2017-11-25 01:03:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/633440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janet_Coleman_Sides/pseuds/Janet_Coleman_Sides
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a mission, Ken and Joe overhear some surprising rumors about themselves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Overheard

"Chief?"

"What is it now, Donaldsen?"

"I'm... scared."

There is a murmur of assent from the rest of the goon squad. Hidden up away from Galactor eyes in the shadow of a big, idle turbine, Ken trades a can-you-believe-these-guys? look with Joe.

Joe just grins toothily and leans against a generator housing, wrapped in his dark wings. His hands emerge to gesture: **[Smart for goons! I'll go -- ]**

**[Maintain, Joe. Jun needs another fourteen minutes. No alarms till she's done.]** The charges have to be set precisely in order to blow the mecha so that it will do no more damage to anyone below. Joe knows this, of course. 

"I can't believe you guys!" roars the chief to his whimpering green flock. "Scared? What the fuck of?"

"Ah..."

"Well..."

"See..."

"Shut up! -- You! Donaldsen!" There is an 'eep!'. "What are you so scared about, pansy?"

"Sir...with all due respect--"

" 'WITH ALL DUE RESPECT', YOUR SISTER'S A SLUT! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU SCARED ABOUT?"

"Sc- scuttlebutt has it that the Ninjatai are supposed to be coming here, sir."

**[Supposed to, eh?]** Joe signals. Ken isn't surprised. 

"AND?"

"Well... and...we don't want to die, sir. Not today, anyway. Also, sir, begging your pardon, but I don't have a sister."

There is a long silence. Some shuffling feet can faintly be heard, but nothing more. Ken waits for the sound of the gun, for the example to be made of Donaldsen, who sounds too civilized for a goon anyway. Galactor SOP.

Joe is shaking his head, apparently thinking the same thing. But the shot does not come.

"What! You think they're tough?" says the chief, almost conversationally. He sounds like he is smiling, pacing around inside what is presumably a circle of shamefaced goons. 

"Hell yeah, sir --"

"They're _all_ deadly, but --"

"The _Eagle_ \--"

"That _Condor_!"

More murmurs of assent.

**[What is that chief doing? Trying to incite a mutiny?]** Ken gestures at Joe, but Joe isn't looking. He _is_ smirking grimly at the tone of fear his name is said in.

The chief mimics them in falsetto. "'The Eagle', 'the Condor'! -- You're all wet behind the ears. Hasn't anybody TOLD you about them yet?"

"Told us what, chief?"

**[Yeah, what?]** Joe signs. 

"Listen up, boys, and I'll let you in on something. It's all their reputation that makes you think they're so badass. But the truth is: the Swallow wets the bed; the Owl can be bribed with food; the Swan might kill ya but at least you'll get to see up her little skirt first..."

The goons snicker. 

"And as for G-1 and G-2... they're most likely off somewhere right this minute havin' themselves a jolly ol' G-69."

Ken feels his eyebrows leap straight up out of gravity's control. 

Joe's mouth drops open, almost audibly. 

"What?"

"You're kidding!"

"Naw," drawls the chief, really enjoying himself now that he has everyone's attention. "I have it from an inside source at the ISO. The Eagle and the Condor are up each other like a pair of monkeys. Nambu has to throw cold water on 'em just to get 'em to separate long enough to go on missions."

Ken's eyebrows won't come down.

Joe's mouth won't shut. He looks like the cartoon coyote.

"I knew it," growls an older-sounding goon. "Got a ditz of a daughter just turned fourteen, thinks that fancy-ass Eagle is godalmighty gonna come fly her away. _Course_ he's a pansy."

"Oh, yeah? My WIFE told me she fantasizes about the Condor," chimes in another, though he does not sound all that offended; perhaps he benefits from his wife's trains of thought.

"That's 'cause he's _still_ more man'n you, Morrie!"

"Get bent, Woronicz."

"An' all along they're really...?"

"Dress up in birdie-suits, don't they?" A cooing noise starts, which is picked up and echoed by several of the squad.

The chief lets them run with it. It's obviously a morale booster. And Ken and Joe must wait nine more minutes.

Ken isn't sure Joe will hold out that long. He's finally managed to close his mouth, but now it's clamping into a tighter and tighter line with every remark that floats up to taunt them.

"So, which one d'you figure sits on the nest?"

"An' which one perches on a pole?" pipes up a new voice. Even the chief laughs aloud.

As for Ken, he knows perfectly well what the Galactor chief below is trying to do, but still he silently thanks the birdstyle designers for the blue tint to the visor-beak of his helmet. The furious blush staining his cheeks is uncomfortable enough by itself without having to be witnessed. 

"Eagle, precious... _please_ let me fire the big, bad bird missile..."

"Ooo! Don't bat your eyes at me, Condor, _I've_ got the long girly eyelashes!"

"Well, don't get your tailfeathers in a bunch, bitch!"

Laughter.

Joe, whose fists clenched predictably at the mention of the 'big, bad bird missile', actually starts to twitch with silent laughter at the last couple of cracks: Ken can see him smirking under the hooked purple beak. **[I'll have to remember that one,]** Joe signs, absently, as if forgetting that Ken can see it.

Ken is much more flummoxed by the fact that _Joe is laughing at this_ than by what's actually being said. Of course, Joe is smirking particularly at remarks that target Ken's dignity, while scowling at the ones that single himself out. That figures. But the inventive goons give them rather even coverage.

"Think they keep the outfits on?"

"Hell, _I_ would."

"Great, Tarinton. Remind me never to shower near you."

"How _do_ birds fuck anyway?"

"Eagles fuck in the air," says Morrie. "I seen it in a Harper S. Thomas movie."

This is met by a chorus of "whoooo!" Ken blinks. In the air?

"But... ain't condors _buzzards_?"

"So, they just have to do it circling over somethin' dead."

This is high wit for a goon squad, and brings the house down momentarily till the chief shuts them up again.

Ken can't help it. It's just too absurd. He squeezes his eyes shut, shaking with forcibly suppressed laughter.

When he can breathe properly again, he glances up to see Joe eyeing him sharply, assessingly. What --? Oh. Ken raises his head to show that he was laughing, not -- what? Not whatever else it was Joe thought he might have been doing.

He'll worry about that later. In two minutes Jun will be done, and they will need to be getting out of here very quickly. It's all very well for those Galactors down there to joke about buzzards circling, since soon they'll be eating their words. Or, more to the point, their words will be eating them.

Ha. But first...

He signals the plan to Joe. 

***

"Hey, chief?"

"What is it NOW, Donaldsen??"

"I thought I heard something..."

"Quiet! EVERYONE SHUT YOUR HOLE!"

With a slightly shorter period of shuffling and grumbling, the squad falls silent.

Two low, cooing noises whisper from corner to corner of the bay. Goon whispers erupt: "what!" and "where the hell?"

High in the rafters, Ken struggles to coo with a straight face. It's just as well he's not trying to whistle this time -- it would be impossible. 

"Oh, shit!"

"It isn't --"

"Oh, my God, did they _hear_?"

"Ohshitohshitohshit!"

"Chieeeeef...?"

"Hey, uh -- I didn't say nothing, ya know, b-b-besides my brother's gay an' -- I _like_ birds!"

"Shut up, Tarinton!"

Jun signals.

"Okay, guys. All done. You've got ten minutes."

Joe lets out a bloodcurdling whoop, and divebombs himself at the scattering goons. Panic erupts. 

Ken grins and arrows down into the fray, mopping the floor with the mouthy chief before tossing him down a flight of utility stairs. He'd already fainted at the sight of Gatchaman, but Ken kicks his ass anyway.

Joe is perfecting the art of killing two goons by picking up one goon by the ankles and killing another goon with him. "Tell Morrie I'll give his widow something to hang his funeral wreath on."

All too soon, they must go, or else go boom with the rest of the ill-fated mecha. They run down the corridor the way they came, breathing hard: they lingered a bit long putting the fear of Gatchaman in already-doomed goons.

They pause for a moment on the lip of the open hatchway, poised on the balls of their feet. The wind roars in, whipping their wings behind them.

Joe turns to Ken. "Well? Shall we... circle?" 

**BOOM.** The spasm of surprise in Ken's chest happens to coincide with the first of Jun's bombs thudding through the floor. It's time to go, NOW. 

But first.

"Don't boss me around," Ken grins, toothily. " _I've_ got the long girly eyelashes."

Joe shouts with laughter as they jump.


End file.
